


By the Fireside

by Vaysh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco, Bottoming from the Top, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaysh/pseuds/Vaysh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>By now, the fire had died down to a glowing heap of ash. Wands, glasses, shoes and clothes had been discarded, the top buttons of Draco's shirt ripped off, and Harry's tie had ended up much too close to the fireside to not have sparks burning tiny holes into the silk. But who cared about such things, on a night like this, with Harry Potter naked on top of him, fucking Draco gently into oblivion?</i><br/>or: Harry and Draco are having sex in a winter night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By the Fireside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ritalaura2000](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ritalaura2000).



It was no secret that Draco Malfoy loved sex. But what he really loved was sex on a night like this, early December, Yule still weeks away, and yet the weather gods had decided that it was a great night to let the temperatures drop, have icy winds blow in from the north, and amass rain clouds over the West Country. It had been snowing since afternoon tea, small soggy things at first, but now crystalline flakes sparkled in the light of the streetlamp in front of Harry's home in Godric's Hollow. The street, the trees, the old-fashioned roofs of the houses, even that blasted monument down the road were covered in a thick silvery layer of snow. 

"You feel so good," Harry murmured. "So good, Draco..."

He pushed in again, slow and strong, making Draco's body arch with a will of its own. The bearskin underneath them was warm and soft enough to be comfortable, but hard enough to provide the firmness Draco craved during a bout of fireside sex. There was something else he craved, and he was not getting it – yet. So he just had to wrap his legs tighter around Harry's hips and bring him closer.

"Don't stop," he whispered, "don't ever stop." It was such a silly thing to say, because Harry would never stop, not when they were both so close, and he had Draco teetering on the edge for what felt like hours.

It had all started, predictably, after they had returned from the Manor. They had been barely inside the house when Harry had pulled Draco to him and kissed him deeply, tasting of tea and cold air. Snow had been in Harry's hair, making him look older and sexier, and Draco had not been able to keep his hands out of the black strands. He'd sucked at the wet tips, sucked at Harry's tender skin at the side of his neck, which – predictably, too – had made Harry rock-hard within minutes and aching to have Draco underneath him. They'd tumbled towards the fire-place where Harry had lit a roaring fire with a flick of his wand.

By now, the fire had died down to a glowing heap of ash. Wands, glasses, shoes and clothes had been discarded, the top buttons of Draco's shirt ripped off, and Harry's tie had ended up much too close to the fireside to not have sparks burning tiny holes into the silk. But who cared about such things, on a night like this, with Harry Potter naked on top of him, fucking Draco gently into oblivion? The room was filled with soft shadows, the only sounds the crackling of the wood and their heavy panting. Draco pushed his hips up, giving Harry permission to thrust more forcefully into him. After those visits to the Manor, Harry always _wanted_ sex but held back when they were actually getting down to it.

"Take me, Potter, take me hard," Draco murmured against Harry's cheek, and a shudder ran through Harry's body. The next moment, he slammed forward, pushing deeply into Draco's arse. Draco couldn't help gasping at the sharp burn, but he clung to Harry. He felt stretched to an impossible limit, and yet Draco's toes went numb and his balls contracted with pleasure. "Don't stop," he moaned again, "don't stop." _Merlin, don't stop, Harry._

They thrust in unison now, up and down, in and out; they had found their rhythm, Draco opening up ever wider, and Harry pushing into him again and again. But he was still holding back, still too gentle, too focused on not hurting Draco. Inwardly, Draco swore to keep Harry away from the Manor until Yule. Whenever Harry had come face to face with Father, he would _make love_ to Draco afterwards as if Draco was some porcelain doll. And Draco couldn't stand it, this considerate gentleness, as if he was a broken thing that needed special care. He needed Harry to fuck him into the mattress (or the bearskin-covered floor) with wild abandon. Salazar, he _needed_ Harry to use his arse for the lube-dripping hole it was, rip into him and give him a real fucking.

Draco put his hands on Harry's hips and held them in place, making him stop. Harry let out a frustrated groan but at once obliged. He searched Draco's face. “All good?“ he managed, gulping in air.

“All good.“ Draco nodded. He took a moment to caress Harry's sweat-covered back. Merlin, he loved this body, skin so soft and underneath sharp bones that Draco just had to rub against. Harry caught his mouth and moved his tongue over Draco's lips, gently, oh so gently. Damn the Manor and damn Father! Draco took Harry's tongue between his teeth and bit into it, sharply, with intent to hurt.

Harry gasped into Draco's mouth with surprise and – hopefully – pain. "God, Malfoy, what the fuck was that for?" He licked a trickle of blood from his lips.

But Draco had him already by the shoulders, legs still tight around his hips. He rolled them over in one swift move, making Harry's head fall back heavily onto the fur. _Good._ Wild black hair mingled with the short brown fur of the bearskin. How beautiful Harry was like this – his skin rosy and damp from arousal, his eyes dark green and shining like holly leaves. Draco kissed him fully on the mouth, a messy kiss full of spit and teeth. Harry groaned, and both their bodies seemed to vibrate with the dark sound.

Harry's cock was still lodged in Draco's arse. A couple of tentative wiggles, then Draco resumed their faster pace from before. And oh, yes, so much better, because now he could slam his arse down with the kind of force he needed. Harry never took his eyes off him as he snapped his hips upward with fast, powerful thrusts. His irises shone green and golden, with the fire reflecting off of them. Harry's hands were on Draco's hips, controlling his position but not his speed. Oh, Merlin, yes. _Hold me, Harry ..._ If now he'd only –

Draco leaned forward and Harry lifted his hips, following his movement. They never stopped fucking when Draco brought his mouth close to Harry's ear. "Give me your big cock," he whispered. "All of that huge, hard, aching prick," he groaned. "Stuff it into me, squeeze it right in," he murmured. "Fill me up, Harry, make me take it," he begged, and was so turned on that he had to lick Harry's ear and could only moan into it.

Harry's fingers were digging painfully into Draco's skin, he pushed down on Draco's hips, and his cock – ah, Merlin, yes, that was it. Draco moaned, "Harder, Potter, harder," but Harry was fucking him good already, long, deep thrusts – oh, Merlin, so fucking deep. Draco let go of everything, just his mouth at Harry's ear and his fingers clawing at Harry's hair, at the bearskin beside Harry's head. He didn't move, didn't push his body down because now his arse was all Harry's to slam into and pierce him again and again and again, until Draco was burning and tingling all over, his own cock trapped between their slippery bodies. He felt need rise within him, sharp and full in his balls and his cock leaked hot drops of spunk.

Harry was panting hard, pushing into Draco fast now, quick shallow thrusts that meant he was ready to spill at any moment. Oh, and Draco knew just how to make it even sweeter for Harry, and he let himself go more loose, all Harry's, all his.

"You're nothing, Harry..." his voice was quiet, calculating, unslurred by the need that was burning so brightly through his blood, "nothing like, nothing like _him_."

Harry groaned, loudly and so needy Draco thought he'd come from the sound alone. But then Harry flipped them over, one brutal move that had Draco slammed onto the fur, and Harry pushed his legs up way behind his shoulders and – finally – drove into Draco like he meant it. Like he wanted Draco with a heat of his own. Like he needed to claim Draco once and for all. Like he could fuck away the Dark Lord and Father and everybody who had ever touched Draco against his will.

"Tell me," Harry choked out, "tell me," and Draco knew he was that close, a word from him would push him over the edge. But, Salazar, he was fucking Draco so good, such wild relentless thrusts. Harry's body had become a thing apart, a thing that drove itself into Draco, into his arse, below his skin, into his veins, into his heart. Draco was a mess of need and aching pain and so full, so bloody full he just wanted, oh Merlin, he wanted –

 _Harry..._ "You're the only, the only one –"

A violent shiver ran through Harry, and Draco pulled him closer, so impossibly close. Harry's body convulsed, he groaned, heaving sobs so powerful he could not reign them in, and Draco knew he was coming, he was spilling _everything_ into Draco, giving himself over to sheer lust.

"All yours, Harry, I'm all –"

It was too much. Harry was still fucking him, fast, sharp, in and out. Draco's arse was on fire, his cock slippery and rock hard in Draco's own hand, and he had to stop it, had to, or else he could not stand it any longer, Harry's moans, his breathless "Draco, Draco," the overpowering smell of sweat and spunk –

"Yours... only yours, only, _only ever_ –"

"Draco," Harry whispered, "come for me, Draco." His breath was soft at Draco's ear, and he wrapped his strong fingers around Draco's hand, around Draco's cock, and _squeezed_. A growl, so deep and wild it must be the bear's, was forced from Draco's throat. He was coming, _coming_ , an arrow snapping from the bow, pain bursting into pleasure fast and full, a _giving_ he could no longer stop. Nor would he try, ever, as blood pushed through his skin and hot flames blazed all over him and through and through –

The streetlamp before Harry's house cast a strip of cool light over their bodies. The crackling from the fire seemed overly loud in the stillness of the living room. Draco found himself gulping for air. They were both panting like schoolboys after their first peek beneath a skirt (or, more to the point, at another boy's hard prick in the loo). Harry was trembling from exertion, muscle-deep, Draco could feel it on his skin, and he told Harry to take his bloody heavy carcass off of him.

Chuckling, Harry slipped out of him with a squelching noise that made Draco wince (from embarrassment more than pain) and he rolled himself onto the bearskin at Draco's side. Draco stretched out his legs, and that _was_ painful as the bunched-up muscles in his thighs uncoiled.

Harry caressed him slowly, like he always did after sex, especially Draco's arse and his hole, still wide open and dripping wet from the sex. It was an odd thing to do. Nobody had every touched Draco like this, and Harry was not his first lover, not by a long stretch. Soon Harry would grab whatever piece of cloth was available (his own dress shirt currently hanging on the poker, no doubt) and clean Draco up. But right now, it was just Harry's fingers, touching, sliding in and out, caressing. Draco turned towards him; he found Harry's lips with his mouth and gave in to the sparks of arousal that Harry's fingers teased from his arse. He loved how pliant Harry's lips were after sex, loved how Harry would for once not claim but let himself be taken over. To kiss like this with Harry's finger moving inside of him was sheer bliss.

They must have lain like this for a long time. The strip of light had moved over the chairs before it disappeared abruptly with the distant chiming of the church bells. Eleven o'clock. Harry's breathing evened out, and his hand on Draco's arse relaxed into a possessive hold. It was unlikely they would get up to spend the night in Harry's bed upstairs. Draco quietly snapped his fingers and two cashmere blankets came gliding from the chairs. Another snap, and the blankets tugged themselves around their bodies. Harry sighed and snuggled deeper against Draco. In May, Draco thought, when they'd been together for a year, he would show Harry the wandless magic he was capable of.

It was true that wandless magic had not helped him against the Dark Lord. No matter what came of this ... this _thing_ between Harry and him, Draco would always love Harry Potter for having got rid of the bastard once and for all.

But there was a reason why Draco had no siblings, and why Greyback had been kicked out of his pack long before the werewolves were rounded up for Azkaban. A night like this? Sex like this? Not for Lucius Malfoy. Not for Fenrir Greyback. Draco had made sure of it.

He gently licked over Harry's lips, to get a last taste of him before falling asleep. Harry responded, his mouth moving even when he was dreaming. Draco kissed him, and the kiss tasted of blood. They were so close Draco could feel the beating of Harry's heart. Their cocks were touching, his half-hard and Harry's soft and big and warm. Draco could not think of a safer place than here – by the fireside, in Harry's arms. He closed his eyes; he breathed in the familiar scent of Harry's skin. And he let his magic wrap around them like a bearskin, soft and firm.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> A huge and heartfelt thank you to **subtlefire** , for her in-depth and lightning fast beta.


End file.
